March 11, 2006

Today my town had its annual St. Patrickâ€™s Day Parade. It has been held in this town for the past few years, ever since the annual parade in Sharpe Jamesâ€™ Wonderland Newark could not attract a sufficient number of spectators or participants.

It is quite the event in town. A few saloons make a huge killing, including the one directly on the parade route, which removes all the barstools, tables and chairs so that it can pack more celebrants into the joint.

I am partly of Irish heritage, and I am a guy who enjoys a libation or two. However, as in past years, I took a pass on the parade and the post-parade revelry. As I mentioned in an e-mail exchange with a Jersey blogging colleen, I remain of the view that too many rank amateurs come out for events such as St. Patâ€™s Day parades and often things can get pretty messy. Thereâ€™s nothing terribly Irish or festive about some guy named Angelo puking on the sidewalk.

So, tomorrow, we will head over to the Post where The Original Bill will have prepared a shitload of corned beef and cabbage. We will eat and drink with the Usual Suspects, which is to say — with â€œprofessionalsâ€.